Leila Potter and the Potions Master
by musicsnob357
Summary: This is based on the what-if scenario of if Lily and James Potter had a daughter, and how Severus Snape deals with having Leila in his class... the spitting image of Lily Evans. It also explores how different Leila's life is in comparison to Harry's.
1. A New Year

**CHAPTER ONE**

**A/N:** I don't mean to plagiarize here! I know that a lot of this stuff is similar to the books, and I mean for it to be that way, and the stuff that is similar doesn't belong to me. Only Leila is mine! Anyway think of this as a "What-if James and Lily had had a daughter." The story is based off that idea. I did change quite a bit compared to what's in the books, so make sure you aren't thinking everything has to be exactly the same! Please please please R&R! Thanks a bunch!  
~~~~

Severus Snape muttered "Acid Pops" under his breath, his hands quivering with fury. As soon as the door began to move, he burst through it, into the headmaster's office and practically on top of the old man, as he was standing just outside the doorway. It was as if he had been expecting him. That wouldn't have surprised Severus, sometimes he thought Albus was just as talented legitimens as he himself was.

"Albus! Albus, why? Why have you done this?" Livid with anger, Severus stalked around the room, his robes billowing behind him. "I asked you—begged you, in fact—to not accept her here. Not Hogwarts. So why now? You know. You know, Albus, that I cannot teach that brat of a child! The daughter of that—of that sad excuse of a man. I don't understand." He turned on heel and faced Dumbledore, his steely gray eyes cutting through the gentle ocean blues. "What would possess you to do something like this?"

"Severus, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about."

Snape let out a hiss of frustrated, sarcastic laughter. "Don't play innocent with me. You know that won't get you very far." When Dumbledore continued to give him a curiously oblivious expression, he growled two words: "_Leila Potter._"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles, nodding. "You are under the impression that I allowed her to come here to torture you?"

"Damn it!" Snape threw a small vase across the room, shattering it. "Don't play games with me, Albus! I know you, and you know me. Of course you didn't accept her request merely to _torture me_, but I know that I had a part in your decision. You are assuming that you know what's best for me, _again_. Why in the _hell _would you think that teaching her could be beneficial for me?"

Dumbledore strode over to the broken vase with amazing grace and spoke softly, "Reparo." He then stooped over to pick it up, marveling at it as if it was the first time he had seen it. Dumbledore was truly a believer in healing, fresh-starts, and miracles—all things Severus had never subscribed to believing in. "Severus, I have recognized a trait in you that I once possessed. It was something I hated about myself. I sought to change it on my own. I have given you time to change this particular part of yourself, but you don't seem to have any desire to change. Severus, you are _judgemental. _Leila is quite the interesting, bright young woman… and yet because her last name is _Potter, _you refuse to see anything good about her."

Snape snarled at him, "There can't be anything good about a Potter! James was a lowly, cowardly, self-righteous bastard who never did anything good for anyone but himself! How could his offspring be anything different?"

Dumbledore chuckled gently. Severus felt as if his head might explode; sometimes the wisdom of Dumbledore irritated the hell out of him. Just because he was younger did not mean he was any less wise. "You seem to forget that James did not produce Leila out of thin air; she came from Lily's womb."

At the verbalization of Lily's name, Snape visibly flinched and softened just a little. His voice was still harsh, but no longer in the form of a shout as he said, "After all the publicity about being 'The Chosen One,' her head is bound to be as big as her father's."

"That is exactly why I have accepted her. She is the most humble being I have ever encountered. And plus, the small school of magic she attended in France didn't want the publicity. So of course, I accepted her here. I would be delighted to get to know her better, so she will be entering her 7th year here, and accepted like any other student." His words were sharp, pointed at Severus.

"I'll treat her like any other student," he vowed, half sarcastically.

"Severus, I employ you to look beyond her last name and see the woman inside of her. You may just find that she is more like Lily than you could imagine."

A small thrill went through Severus at the thought of another Lily in his life, but another part of him wondered if he could deal with her leaving all over again.

"Fine, Headmaster."

"Thank you, Severus. I will see you on the first of September."

****

Leila closed her eyes and slowly pushed her way through the wall effortlessly. There was a clenched feeling in her stomach of nervousness as she stepped through. The red-haired woman hadn't lied; the wall really was only an illusion.

It was the first of September. She was headed to her first day at a new school—after getting kicked out of her old one, she wasn't too terribly excited. Over her shoulder, her small bag was slung, and in her hand she held an even smaller bag containing only her schedule, a bottle of water, and a map of the huge castle she was to now call her home. She had hardly any belongings; practically everything from her previous home in the cupboard under the stairs could fit in her tiny duffle bag.

She marveled at the large red train towering over her and thought, _is this really happening? _Her mother and father had gone to school at Hogwarts; now finally she would get to follow in their footsteps.

A small boy was being dragged along by his frazzled-looking mother and he gasped as he saw her. "Look, Mum, it's the Girl Who Lived!"

"Don't be silly, Talon, she lives miles from here." The mother pulled her son along without casting a glance in Leila's direction. Leila was grateful that she hadn't looked; she really didn't need a crowd following her today.

Leila pushed her bangs over the lightning-bolt scar on her face, hoping for a little bit of anonymity. Then she took a deep breath and boarded the Hogwarts Express.

She sat in the first empty compartment she could find and pulled out her map. She'd been studying it for weeks with a flashlight, hoping that her uncle wouldn't discover her—the last thing she wanted was to get lost at her new school and make a fool out of herself.

A boy with a flame of red hair sticking out all over the place practically barged through the compartment door, yelling across his shoulder, "Oy, Hermione, I think this one's free!" Then he turned to see Leila and halted. "Bloody hell! I didn't see you there. You aren't a first year, are you? D'you mind if we sit here?" He allowed himself in without Leila's permission and was followed by a very pretty girl with crazy, mouse-brown curls, whom Leila assumed was Hermione.

"No, and no," Leila said, though she doubt that the flame-haired boy cared one way or another.

"Haven't seen you around," the boy said, not really looking at her. Hermione seemed to be looking frantically through her bag for something.

"I'm a transfer," Leila told him. "I'm a sixth-year."

He looked at her and nodded. "That's cool." He gave Hermione a shove and said, "Don't be rude, 'Mione, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm—" she looked up at Leila and jumped as her eyes met hers. Then she got a confused look on her face and looked back at the boy. "Ron, you git, don't you ever read the newspapers?"

"I—no—jeesh, we've been on summer vacation."

"Ron, if you'd _ever _picked up a newspaper you'd know that she is Leila Potter!"

Great, Leila thought to herself, turning a deep shade of crimson. Ron looked over at her, studying her face and searching for her scar. "I—are you—seriously?"

"Uh, yep."

"Wow. Look, I'm so sorry, it's really an honor," he stuck out his hand and Leila shook it. "Shit, I feel like a nutter now, you must hate me already!"

"Oh, no, it's okay…"

"I'm sure everyone else is like, 'Oh my God, you're Leila Potter' and is all nice to you… I didn't even ask properly if I could sit with you."

"Ron, shut up," Hermione said stoutly. "Leila, do you want us to treat you like royalty?"

Leila shook her head and allowed her shoulders to relax. She could see in Hermione's compassionate eyes that Hermione understood that Leila did not want to be a celebrity. More than anything, Leila wanted to be a normal girl, attending a normal wizarding school.

"No harm done, then?"

Again, Leila shook her head.

"See, Ron? It's fine."

The rest of the train ride went incredibly smoothly. Leila was surprised to find that the pair was very easy-going, and accepted her like a normal friend in no time. She found herself relaxing, laughing at Ron's stupid jokes and at Hermione as she playfully taunted him. But as the train ride slowly grew to a close, the knot in her stomach came back. Soon she would be inside the castle, where she would find out if she was to be sorted into the house that her mother and father had been a part of.

***

A very old, very wise woman met Leila at the door. "Good evening, Miss Potter, I am Professor McGonagall," she said proudly. "I will be announcing the first years to be sorted before the feast, and I would like you to go before them, seeing as it is essential for you to have a house of your own."

Goosebumps shot up Leila's spine, but she found herself nodding. Whatever happened, happened.

When they got to the Great Hall, it was already packed with students. Leila suddenly felt incredibly small, even though she was standing next to a mob of insanely short eleven-year-olds. People were whispering, and she knew it was about the new student up front with the lightning-bolt shaped scar.

"Potter, Leila—please come to the front for your sorting." Professor McGonagall's voice sounded above all the others, and the Great Hall went silent. Leila sifted through the jittery first-years and sat on the stool. The hat was placed on her head.

"Interesting. I see you are the daughter of James and Lily Potter. 'The Girl Who Lived,' they call you. A lot of courage, you've got up there. Guts, and a lust to prove yourself to everyone. Traits worthy of the Slytherine household."

"No," Leila whispered. "Please, not Slytherine."

"Not Slytherine? Ahh, very interesting. What house then, my dear? Since you are the wise one here."

"Gryffindor. Please, Gryffindor."

"Well, as you wish… GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table cheered and Leila beamed at them. She hopped up from the stool and was beckoned over by Ron and Hermione. She sat happily by her new friends, in a daze of delight until well into the feast, which is when she realized exactly how hungry she was.

After piling her plate with food and stuffing herself, she finally looked up from the food. She examined the staff table and recognized only two faces; one was Professor Dumbledore, who had spoken to her over the summer, and of course Professor McGonagall. The other teachers were socializing together, all except one.

Near the middle on the left side of Professor Dumbledore sat an unusual looking man. He wore all black, tightly-clad robes that made him look especially vampire-like. His hair was raven black, in a crazy shock around his ears and head. His face was pinched but not unattractive. But perhaps the most peculiar thing about him was that his face was frozen in a horrible scowl, a scowl that seemed to be directed right at Leila.

When Leila caught his eye, she could feel the color draining out of her face. Her body froze and she could feel a thrill of terror like syrup draining throughout her body. Whoever this man was, it was clear that he loathed her—and she didn't know why.

After her paralyzed body once again melted and became usable, she turned to Ron and asked who that was.

Through a mouthful of food he said, "Oh, thot's Snape. Aw-aful bloke."

Hermione glared at him and then looked at Leila. "What he means to say is, that's Professor Snape. He doesn't especially like Gryffindors, so you might want to stay away from him. He teaches Potions."

Leila managed to glance at him once more, and his face was molded into the same expression. "I don't think he likes me much."

Hermione followed her gaze. "I don't know, he could be scowling at anyone on this table." But she seemed to be trying to convince herself, too.

It was obvious that Professor Snape already loathed Leila.


	2. Friendly Encounters

**CHAPTER TWO**

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Please remember to R&R so I know if I should continue or not. Tell me what you don't like if you want, I'll try and fix it if I agree. And please also tell me what you do like! :D :D

Leila rounded the corner sharply, in deep thought. It became apparent to her only when she was a few feet away that she had entered the scene of a fight between three sixth-years and a first-year.

She recognized the small boy from the group a week ago, when they had been sorted. Fletcher Samari, his name was. Fletcher was smaller than many of the girls, and a little wide for his age. His cheeks were always red and he had freckles so big and so red that they resembled acne. From what Leila had seen, however, he was a mellow and friendly boy, just an outcast because of his appearance and shyness.

She recognized the sixth-years, too. Ron and Hermione had made sure to point them out as soon as they could. Crabbe, Goyle, and their master, Draco Malfoy. He was notorious for picking on the small and helpless, and for sticking his abnormally pale nose in where it didn't belong.

At this particular moment, he had his wand jabbed so close to Fletcher that it was a miracle he hadn't stabbed out his eye. "Fletch," he snarled at the cowering first-year, "You're lucky that I'm in a good mood today. Normally if your ugly little frog had come wandering over to my side of the castle, I would've smashed it into a stew and fed it to the house-elves." Fletcher cringed at the thought. "But I think I'll spare him today, if you pay up. 35-galleons."

Fletcher whimpered. "I haven't got 35 galleons! That's more than what my parents give me in a year's time!"

Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe, who Leila now saw was holding an especially ugly frog, one that appeared to belong to Fletcher. "That's just too bad, isn't it, Fletchy… looks like your little friend is going to have to—"

"Stop!" Leila found herself saying with confidence. She didn't know where this had come from; Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were all much bigger and stronger than she was. But Fletcher needed someone to come to his rescue, and it's not like she could just stand and watch.

She dropped her books and pulled out her wand. With a smooth sweep, she slid in between Fletcher and Malfoy, allowing Fletcher to slip away. "Pick on someone your own size, Draco," she muttered in his face.

"Well look at you, Potter, thinking you're all great just because you're _famous. _It's _Malfoy _to you, and you better watch what you're doing. Slytherines are smarter, stronger, and more cunning than any old Gryffindor any day."

"I'm not scared of you."

"Then you're a fool. Just because everyone else likes you don't mean that I will follow."

Then, several things happened at one time. Crabbe let the frog go and was so startled that he tumbled over Malfoy. Malfoy, in anger, mouthed a nonverbal hex that was meant to hit Crabbe but hit Leila straight in the chest and knocked her clear across the hallway. Before she could scream, she was on the ground, her whole body convulsing in agonizing pain. Her hands curled into fists, her head bent into her chest, her legs crumpled up on themselves—she couldn't make a noise, and yet her body was screaming in pain.

Her eyes were clamped shut and her ears were ringing in pain, but minutes passed, or maybe hours, and then the pain cleared completely and she was hoisted to her feet.

She stumbled at leaned on the wall, opening her eyes and wondering what the hell had just happened. As the scene in front of her became clear, she saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sneering angrily at her, along with someone new: Professor Snape. He was not looking at her, but it was obvious he was not there in her favor. "Potter," he sneered, still not looking at her, "Twenty points from Gryffindor for tardiness, and a detention each night this week. You will need an antidote nightly thanks to Mr. Malfoy over here. However, since this was a spell that seemed to have gone astray, you are free to go, Draco."

Malfoy didn't hide his triumph well, and Leila couldn't help but gasp in fury. "Professor, that's not fair! That was the Cruciatas Curse, wasn't it?" Leila realized that she was right. "No matter who it was directed at, that was an Unforgivable Curse! And he gets off free?"

"_Miss _Potter," he sneered with his angry, nasal tone, "Are you questioning my ruling? Because I'm sure I could modify it, but _not _in your favor, I _assure _you."

Leila was fuming, but she knew it was in her best interest to not challenge Snape. "No, Professor. I'll see you in detention."

"Actually, you'll see me in class. Or did you have better things to do? Did you think that since you're 'The Girl Who Lived' you'd be excused from my class?"

In all the commotion, Leila had forgotten that she was indeed supposed to be in Potions right now. "No, sir, I don't think that. I'll go to class right now."

Malfoy wasn't containing his snickering at all, which only irked Leila more. However, she rounded the last corner and entered the Potions classroom without another word.

Professor Snape didn't re-enter the classroom until a good thirty minutes later. Leila didn't know what had taken him so long, but his usually pale face was even gaunter and more translucent than normal; he looked as if he had been screaming.

"Get out your cauldrons. You have a good hour and a half left, I expect you to have made good progress on the Draught of the Living Death by then. Get to work!" He seemed even more snappy and angry, but Leila expected that she was the reason for that.

Ron gave Leila a 'what-the-bloody-hell-is-his-problem' look but said nothing, only got out his old cauldron and began to work. Leila did the same with her brand new cauldron.

The class passed slowly. Whenever Leila would look up at Snape, he would either be glaring at her or staring at papers on his desk, he hands clenched into fists. She'd never noticed how his eyes were blood-shot and his mouth twitched when he was deep in thought; he was obviously sleep deprived and incredibly worried about something. Although Leila dislike the man to her core, she found herself curious about what could bother a man like him. He seemed so driven and so selfish that nothing could possibly worry him.

As she turned her potion and eyed him curiously, he turned to look at her once more. His silvery eyes seemed ignited with flames of hatred, and perhaps of something else, too—was that desire? She couldn't read exactly what his eyes were saying, but there was something there besides hatred. Something similar to wanting. This thought troubled her, but excited her, too.

Ten minutes till the bell was to ring, Snape made his rounds. When he got to Leila, he stood over her shoulder for a long while, studying her, trying to find something—_anything_—that she could have done wrong.

This was the first time he'd been truly close to her. She could feel his breath on her neck, his shoulder by her shoulder blade. His presence was powerful and nearly overwhelming. And when she looked up into his eyes, she saw such a complex human being that she could barely hold his steely gaze. His powerful gray eyes dared her to challenge him, to say something, to anger him. For reasons she couldn't explain, he desperately _wanted _to hate her, but couldn't.

At that realization, the hatred in her mind began to thaw. She didn't like the man at all, but she didn't hate him, either.

He dropped a very greed blade of grass into her potion and it shriveled up and died. "You may be done for today, Miss Potter." He swooped away from her, and the spell of mystery he had her in disappeared just as easily as he did.


	3. Fears and Suspicions

**CHAPTER 3**

**A/N: **I'm just going to remind you again to KEEP AN OPEN MIND. Leila is NOT Harry, and her experiences with Voldemort and even her age is different because of that. I'm still developing her character, and she has yet to show her "true colors" since she is new to Hogwarts and wants to be accepted. Please allow me to create my own character! Any criticism on other characters is welcome! Thanks for continuing with Leila!

Also, it's been pointed out that I have made several errors in how I spell "Slytherin" and that Snape's eyes are black, not gray. My bad with the Slytherin spelling—and just go with the gray. In this story, I'm trying to enhance Snape's mystery, not just how evil he is.

Ron and Hermione laughed as Leila told them about her earlier encounter with Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Professor Snape.

"Jeesh, Leila, we've been here six days and you've already got a weeks' worth detention." Ron shoveled several chicken legs onto his plate and gave her a high-five. "Well done!"

Although Ron's eyes gleamed in amusement, Hermione looked less than thrilled. "That's really not good…" she said distantly, thinking hard. "Snape was incredibly unfair to you. The Cruciatus Curse isn't just another old spell… Malfoy could be expelled for that."

Leila was too angry to eat. Hermione was right; Snape obviously either really liked Malfoy or really hated her. She had a feeling that it was the latter option.

But Ron was having no trouble eating. Besides occasionally missing his mouth, his eating abilities were unimpaired. "I reckon Snape just has a stick somewhere it doesn't belong," Ron reasoned. "I wouldn't worry about him."

But Leila had seen the way he looked at her, and she couldn't just chalk it up to the old 'Snape being Snape' reasoning. It didn't seem like the same hatred he had towards people in general. In fact, it didn't even seem like the same hatred he held against the Gryffindors. It was a unique kind of loathing, the worst, most impassioned kind, saved just for Leila.

Hermione nearly overturned the table as her epiphany hit her. "Oh, Ron, we're so stupide!" She turned back to Leila. "Leila, what makes you different from everyone in this room? From everyone in this castle, even?"

Leila looked around the Great Hall. "I'm a transfer student?"

Ron burst out in laughter, spewing chunks of fried chicken all over the place. "Leila, are you really that dense? Even I got that one! Transfer student… ha-ha…" He looked at her, saw that she still didn't get it. "Bloody hell! You're the only one in all of history to have survived _Avada Kedavra._"

Leila laughed. "Well, duh. But what does that have to do with Snape?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Snape has the Dark Mark on his wrist," Hermione explained in a hushed voice. "We saw it last year when he burnt part of his sleeve making a potion. We assumed that since Dumbledore had given him a job here he'd given up that lifestyle… but maybe we were wrong?"

That fit, Leila thought. Snape was working for Voldemort. "He may have given up being a Death Eater, but Voldemort never really lets his people go. Once you become a Death Eater, you pledge your life."

They both flinched at his name, but Hermione recovered quickly and asked: "What do you mean? He's dead."

Leila shook her head. "He's just hiding." She looked down at her food, moved around an untouched pile of green beans. With quick reasoning, she decided that she could trust her new friends. It seemed as if she had known them forever. "Ever since I can remember, Voldemort has been showing up in my life. But not as himself—he doesn't have a body, I don't think. His physical form is dead. But he's possessed people—my aunt, my teachers, neighbors—pretty much anyone who could come into contact with me." The looks on their faces were looks of sheer terror. "Let's just say that I've escaped Voldemort—just barely—more than once."

Ron's eyes were wide as quarters. Again, Hermione was the only one collected enough to speak: "How did you know it was… him?"

"I didn't until this summer. Dumbledore explained everything to me. My old school, they kicked me out because they figure Voldemort is getting stronger. They figure he's coming for me one of these days."

"How did you survive all of those times?!" Ron squeaked.

"I'm not sure… sometimes, just luck. Other times he was weak and desperate, and chose someone weaker than me to possess. A lot of times, I'd educated myself enough to know which spells could help me defend myself just enough." Leila left out the details. The last time Voldemort appeared, Dumbledore himself had to arrive and assist her. They didn't need to know that more than once she'd been left bloody and beaten, barely hanging onto what life she had left. Dumbledore had told her this summer that for some reason, the universe was with her. The world was willing her to survive, the odds were in her favor, and he highly suspected that it was because she was destined to kill Voldemort once and for all. However, that scenario was much easier said than done—since she'd 'killed' Voldemort physically over 5 times.

"Wow. We had no idea!" Hermione said. "So, you think Snape is being possessed, then?"

"I'm just saying, it's a possibility."

* * *

Severus Snape woke in his chambers in the very early hours of the morning. His left hand was clenched into a fist, and he could feel his wrist burning. He pulled up his sleeve and groaned in pain as the snake writhed on his arm.

He stood. The Mark on his arm was more active than it had been in years, and that sent a rare thrill of fear coursing through his bones. He knew why. Voldemort was at work; he knew that Leila was here. Although Snape was not the only Death Eater in the school, he suspected that Voldemort would call on him to do the work.

Voldemort knew there was a flaw in his plan. Since he had no physical body, he was forced to possess those who were weaker than he—which was not difficult, besides Albus Dumbledore, there was no being in the world weaker than Voldemort.

Snape knew that he also had an advantage. He was a prime candidate for being possessed; he was close to the girl every day, and she was the daughter of Lily Evans. This thought would please and humor the Dark Lord, and he would want to use Snape, to torture him by torturing her. But the flaw that Voldemort could not get around was Snape's mind. Since Snape was such an accomplished legitimens, his mind was thus unable to be penetrated by the Dark Lord's nosy spirit. This protected Snape from being Voldemort's puppet.

Snape strode around his room, grasping his arm and breathing heavily. Although Leila was a child of Lily's, she was also a child of Potter's. That left him with an incredibly hard choice: whether her should help her, or harm her. Of course Dumbledore would want him to help her, and since Snape had honestly pledged alliance to Dumbledore he had, at the same time, pledged allegiance with Leila. But he didn't know if he wanted to do that. Didn't know if he could fight alongside of his life-long enemy, James Potter, who had since perished but left a legacy that haunted Snape.

He sat down at his desk, stacked high with parchments waiting for him to grade. He pulled open a drawer and picked up a very old photograph from many, many years ago.

The handsome young man in the picture was not smiling. His hair wasn't very neat and his hygiene wasn't very good. He had dark gray eyes that held a lot of secrets, but you could tell in this picture that he was happy.

The young woman in the picture was stunning. With long ginger hair and shocking green eyes, she was the epitome of perfect. She was beaming out at Snape, smiling widely, her hand clasped around the boy's hand. She couldn't predict that in less than five years she would be dead, and he would have betrayed her.

The young Lily Evans and the young Severus Snape stared back at him. He could still feel her soft hands grasping his, always so warm and eager to be close. He was unable to be close to anyone. It had taken Lily many years to crack him; eventually she'd melted his heart of stone, but even someone as great as Lily couldn't stick around the moody Severus for long.

Snape didn't blame her. She deserved better. For a short time, she had wanted him. But he'd been stupid… and he had let her go.

As Snape pictured Leila in his mind, he could barely tell the difference between her and Lily. As his mind wandered away from Lily and towards Leila, he allowed himself to hope that maybe this was his second chance. Perhaps Leila Potter was his Lily, coming back to him…

He shoved the picture away and likewise shoved Leila out of his mind. He was being ridiculous. He looked at the Dark Mark once more, and then got back into bed. He would continue working with Dumbledore, but he wasn't sure if he would want to work with Leila.


	4. A Dark Past

**CHAPTER 4**

**A/N: **Thanks for sticking with me this far! Please remember to reviewww! Tell me what you want in the future for this story, I might modify my plan, or I might totally surprise you:)  
~~~

Leila woke to a girl shrieking in the common room. She'd fallen asleep writing on a paper for Transfiguration. Ron was asleep on one side, and Hermione was scrawling frantically on the other side of her.

Lavender Brown was squealing at Parvati, so excited to hear about the fall dance coming up. Leila yawned and looked back at her homework, briefly considering actually doing it. She gave up thinking about it.

"We both need to get dates and wear matching dresses of different colors! And we can get dates who are friends too, and they can match! And we can take dancing lessons! And we can get our hair done!" Lavender was talking at a million miles an hour.

"Fall dance, huh?" Leila asked Hermione. "I probably won't go… none of the guys will want to ask me."

Hermione looked up from her parchment, gaping. "Lei, what are you talking about? I bet you'll get loads of invites!"

Leila laughed. "Why would any guy be interested in me?"

"Leila, you're pretty! You're mysterious! You're _'The Girl Who Lived…' _What's not to like?"

Leila hadn't ever thought of herself like that. She looked around the room and spotted Dean Thomas staring at her. She blushed profusely and looked back at Hermione. "I don't know about that…"

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't know someone like you could have the same kind of insecurities as someone like me." Her eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Someone like me?"

"Someone famous."

"Oh. You figured I'd be all arrogant? 'Oh, every guy is going to ask me. I'm famous. I fought Voldemort. Blah blah."

Hermione laughed. "It makes more sense that you'd be like that. Leila, you're the most popular girl in school, and you don't even know it."

Leila's eyes widened. She definitely didn't want that. She was tired of these petty high school games; Leila was beyond popularity contests, dances, and homework… her life had given her enough experience to age her past 50. Sometimes she felt that old.

Leila picked up her quill and continued to write.

* * *

_Leila walked out of the funeral home, her eyes blurry with tears. Although her aunt had not been the greatest woman, she was the closes thing Leila had ever had to a mother. And her death was all Leila's fault. She had cursed Petunia to the point of going insane and running out into traffic. Although Petunia had really been Voldemort, Voldemort was not the one who paid the ultimate cost. Petunia was the one who had lost her life._

_ Leila drew her arms close to her chest and hugged herself, the tears falling freely. When would it ever end? Could she ever go anywhere without being fearful that Voldemort could be just around the corner? Would she ever lead a normal life? She couldn't go anywhere without her wand. Her schoolmates never came around anymore; they were all to scared of the freaky things that happened around her. Leila's uncle and cousin hated her. Her life was in ruins, and there was nothing she could do about it. _

_ She approached their rusty car and leaned against her door. Before she knew it, she'd been pushed up against the side by Vernon, who was breathing heavily in her face now. "This is all your fault! You're bloody scum. You and those freaks—they killed her! YOU killed her!"_

_ Leila shrieked and shrunk away from her uncle. The stubbornness that her father passed on to her made her want to fight, but the passive kindness of her mother told her to just let him yell it out. She was hurt herself, and she didn't have the energy or the ability to fight back. _

_ His whole weight was on Leila, shoving her into the car and snarling into her face. "You don't belong in this family. You don't deserve to be with us. You don't deserve to be alive! Filthy mongrel." _

_ He began to draw back, but then he let out another growl of rage and grief and drew back and angry, pudgy fist. Although he was a small man, the force of his fist on Leila's mouth took the breath right out of her. She gasped and shrank down, away from her uncle. But he wasn't done yet. He drew back again, and struck. Bam, bam, bam. Her face was bloody and already beginning to swell. He cried out in a pain and kicked her in the ribs. She could feel as two of her ribs snapped clean in half._

_ Dudley was standing behind the car, crying softly. Leila didn't expect him to do anything to help her. Vernon took a few steps away, panting heavily. "Come on, Dudley. Let's go home."_

_ He left Leila in a heap on the ground, sobbing and gasping in pain. She had no doubt that she deserved the beating she had just got. The summer air was wrapping around her, but she'd never felt more cold and abandoned in her life. _

Leila woke from her uneasy sleep and sat up. Her eyes were crusty with tears and her hands were shaking from the memories. Although that had been two years ago, Leila still felt it like it had been yesterday. Parts of her were angry, but much of her soul felt like she deserved to be punished. Because she had survived nearly 17 years ago, she had caused many others much pain.

That day, Leila had flown on her broomstick to St. Mungo's. But many nights after that, Vernon had beaten her until she was unconscious, and she didn't visit the hospital on those occasions. She wanted to feel the pain, wanted to punish herself.

Leila picked up her water bottle from her bedside table and took a few long gulps. Her hands still shook and her ears rang but she felt a little better.

After setting her water bottle down, she began to shake frantically. Her arms and legs began to shrink and her whole body felt like it was convulsing in on itself. She shouted in fear and her throat closed in on itself.

Pain like liquid fire shot through her bones, and then everything went black.

* * *

Leila woke but did not open her eyes. Her body felt small and frail. Her eyes burned and her chest felt like it was on fire. What had happened to her? As she became more aware, she heard hushed voices not far away from her.

"—going on, Madame Pomfrey?" The voice was Professor McGonagall's.

"She's taken a Slimming Potion." Madame Pomfrey was mixing something.

"A Slimming Potion?" This voice belong to Snape. "A few drops of that could aid a severely obese person greatly, but Miss Potter was obviously not obese… and she has obviously had a great deal more than a few drops."

"So, Severus, what you're saying is that the girl has been poisoned?" This cracked, wise voice was Dumbledore's.

"I believe so."

"Merlin's beard," McGonagall whispered. "Who would want to poison the child?"

Snape and Dumbledore both sighed. "I think you could answer that with a bit of thought," Snape said curtly. "Who do we know of that has been hunting down Miss Potter since day one?"

Professor McGonagall laughed shrilly, though it was a false laugh. "No. It can't be."

"This is what I've been fearing." Dumbledore's voice changed in strength, indicating that he was facing. "Severus and I have been preparing for this, though I must admit, I was not quite ready for it to happen this soon."

Madame Pomfrey cut in, "Why must we talk in code? What are we preparing for?"

"A student must have done this, probably a girl," Snape said, ignoring Madame Pomfrey. "A Gryffindor, perhaps?"

"Poisonings are very unusual within ones own house," McGonagall pointed out.

"Yes, but if what Severus and I are expecting has indeed happened…"

"What, Albus, what are you talking about?"

When Dumbledore did not reply Snape said gravely, "Lord Voldemort has returned to Hogwarts."


	5. Poisoned

**CHAPTER 5**

**A/N **Sorry it took me so long to update! I hope you like it, remember to R&R! J

**Leila came in and out of consciousness for days. She would catch glimpses of a man in a tight black turtleneck and gray slacks, feeding her potion with the gentleness of the school nurse. He looked vaguely familiar, but she was so tired and so weak that she could barely breathe, let alone think straight. A very old man with a long white beard occasionally visited too, but not near as often as the man in the turtleneck.

The first time she woke completely was in the middle of the night. The curtains were drawn on the windows, but the moon was so bright that it shone through. She was in a small room with large, cedar brick walls. The man was slumped over in a chair, his hair draped over his face, breathing softly and twitching. It sounded like he might be murmuring something, but she couldn't make out what.

She sat up abruptly and a two large boxes clattered to the floor. The man flew from the chair, wand immediately out. With his hair away from his face, Leila could see that he was Snape… although extremely odd looking, with his hair awry and his turtleneck. He saw what had happened, and lowered his wand. "Oh. You're awake."

"What are those?" She asked in alarm.

He picked them up and put them back by her sides. As he turned them, she saw that they were heaters--muggle machines used to warm the air. "Heaters," he said. "Since you lost any of the fat tissue you had, you don't have much in the way of body heat."

Leila asked the next most obvious question: "Why are you here?"

He flashed an irritated look at her. "Trust me, it's not because I care about your wellbeing. It's because I'm the only one who knows how to deal with this kind of poisoning… it goes beyond Madame Pomfrey's training."

"Damn."

"Tell me about it."

He sat back down, sighing. Leila noticed that there were bags under his eyes. "Why do you have to sleep in here?"

He looked up. "You've been having seizures. I have to document when they happen so I can see if you're getting any better."

"And…?"

"You are. Slowly."

They are quiet for a little bit. Leila is glad that she wasn't awake the entire time, it would've been either extremely awkward…. Or they would've fought all the time.

Finally Leila said, "Why do you hate me?"

Without hesitation Snape said, "Because of who your father is."

"You knew him?"

"We were in the same year."

"And I'm a lot like him?"

This time, he hesitated. He even looked away from her for a split millisecond before replying, "No. You're actually a lot like your mother."

"That's a good thing?"

He was quiet when he replied, "Yes. That's a good thing."

They are silent. Leila looks around at the barren room and her heart aches to be out with her friends, or at least asleep in her own bed. She realizes that her bed is no longer safe for her. Someone… perhaps a Gryffindor…. Poisoned her.

She reached up to rub her eyes and for the first time caught sight of her hands. She literally looked like a skeleton. She was incredibly pale, and her skin was tightly wrapped around her frail little bones. She could see every tendon, every vein, ever bone… and it took her breath away. "Professor…" she pushed down her sheets to reveal her legs, thinner than her wrists had once been, and choked as she pulled her shirt up a little bit to expose the outline of the organs in her body. "Oh my God…" Leila's hands shook as she explored her body, the incredible gauntness of everything. "What-? Why-?"

Her breathing got shorter and her eyes were panicked and afraid. Snape saw this and reluctantly walked over and sat by her. He picked up her hand and held it between his. His hands felt huge over her. "It's going to be okay," he said, somewhat harshly. Leila had a feeling that he didn't do much comforting usually. "It was worse, believe it or not. You'll be back to normal in a few weeks."

"A few… a few weeks?"

"It's alright, Leila. I'm going to make it all go as quickly and as smoothly as possible."

As Leila's breath slowed, so did her mind. The shock wore off and was replaced by extreme exhaustion. "I-I don't-I'm so tired…"

"It's alright. That's normal. You can go back to sleep." Leila looked him in the eyes and saw an alien softness residing there. She didn't have any time to question it before she fell asleep laying on his chest.


	6. Uncomfortable Reality

**CHAPTER 6**

Leila tossed and turned in her sleep. She could hear a voice echoing in her head. It was her uncle Vernon's. "You shouldn't be here. You're a killer. A murderer. You worthless piece of filth."

She opened her eyes to see a small room. Her room. Vernon was standing there, pink with fury. He was clutching a bat. "Aren't you?"

Leila looked up at him and murmured weakly, "Yes." She felt it inside. She felt that she was a bad person. The guilt ached so deeply inside her that she knew that she was an awful person through and through.

He got closer to her and she stood. She was much shorter than him, but she could still smell the whisky on his breath. He could barely stand upright, he'd been drinking so much.

The first time he hit her with the bat, she didn't move. But as he kept swinging, slowly she sank to the ground in angst. His swings weren't accurate, but they still hurt. She could hear her ribs cracking, and every time it hit she just got worse and worse. But she took it. She took it.

Leila was sobbing, but Vernon continued. It was as if Leila was an old stool that he'd decided to take out all of his rage on. He was blinded; swinging and battering and crushing with all of his might. Leila whimpered, groaned in pain, but he persisted.

Leila felt as if her body was on fire. Everything ached. Tears poured from her eyes and her mouth was open in a gasp of pain. But she deserved it. She deserved it. So she took it, until he beat her into unconsciousness.

Leila woke from the horrible dream gasping, with tears on her cheeks. She flew up to a sitting position and wiped her eyes immediately. Much to her despair, Snape was standing over her. His expression was a cross between fear, concern, and humor. It was as if he was battling his normal hateful self and the caring person Leila had seen a few times at a glance the previous night.

"How long have you been standing here?" she snapped.

"Just long enough to hear the moaning and witness the awakening." His voice was icy and unconcerned. "Bad dream?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Well if you did… don't worry about it. An active sleep is a side-effect of your recovery potion."

"Oh. Okay. Are they all supposed to be… bad?"

"Probably."

There is an awkward silence and then he asks, "What was it about?"

"Why?"

He looks uncomfortable but he still answers. "I'm just curious."

"Uh. Well, my uncle used to… hurt me, a little."

Snape looks Leila straight in the eyes and she tries desperately not to look away. "That didn't sound like a little."

She had to look away, at this. "It was nothing."

"How often did he abuse you?"

"Not very often."

"Really. Because upon inspecting you, Madame Pomfrey found three broken ribs, strained muscles, and a crack in your skull. A _crack _in your _skull, _Leila. That does not sound like nothing."

Leila still could not look at him. "I don't even feel it anymore, so really, it's nothing!"

He swooped in on her, stood over her, his eyes blazing into hers. "Why would you let him do this? Let him touch you? When you could have caused him so much more pain with not any effort?"

Leila whispered, "Because I deserved it."

"How? How could _you" _his voice cracked a little "possibly deserve all of this?"

Leila breathed, "I'm a murderer." She'd never said it out loud before. "My aunt was being possessed by Voldemort, and I drove her insane. She ran out into traffic and she died. I killed her."

"Leila, you killed Voldemort!"

"And my aunt."

He sat closer to her, his gray eyes staring into hers with such incredible intensity that she could almost feel her own eyes burn. "No. No, Leila. You are not a killer." With that declaration, Snape pulled Leila to his chest. As Leila sobbed, he held her. It was an alien feeling for both of them, being in someone else's arms… but neither pulled away.


	7. Repressed Feelings

**CHAPTER 7**

One clove of garlic. 3 mL dragon blood. 5 mL of rum--

Professor Snape snapped the graduated cylinder he was holding clean in two, spilling the rum all over the floor. It was a rare variety, one that could only be bought in Ireland. "Damn it," he growled at himself, running a shaky hand through his messy hair.

Ever since the first time he'd touched Leela, she kept running through his head. He didn't know what to make of her. She was strong, stubborn, and good-willed… but yet at the same time, she was so lost, so insecure, and so guilty about everything she ever did. As much as he hated how the shape of her mouth was the same as James' had been, and how pale her skin was, just like James' skin… he couldn't help but feel pity for her. He couldn't help but like how her laugh rang out just as pure and as beautiful as Lily's had been. He couldn't help but like how her ginger hair was wavy and crazy… just like Lily's. There were little beautiful things about her that made him crave to touch her. He wanted so badly to feel her skin on his that he couldn't control himself. He was breaking his lab containers, waking up in the middle of the night, daydreaming more and more often… all because of this stupid student.

He looked at the clock. It was 7:30, he had missed dinner… again. Everything was out of whack. All he could think about was the beautiful woman laying in the room across the hallway, in so much despair and so much pain…

The door to the dungeon slowly creaked open. A hunched, but tall man strode in, his gentle blue eyes shining from across the entire room. He walked with a certain tranquility that seemed to still the room and pause time itself. "Severus," he greeted him.

"Albus," Snape said with a shaky voice.

"How are you on this lovely evening?"

Snape could hear the thunder rolling outside even within the dungeon. It was not a lovely evening, but of course Dumbledore would never say anything negative. "I'm just fine, thank you."

"We missed you at dinner tonight."

Snape laughed cynically. "I very much doubt that."

Dumbledore smiled his twinkly smile and said, "I missed you, Severus. Where have you been the last few evenings?"

"Just… busy, with potions."

He looked at the broken graduated cylinder. "This looks like a good one."

Snape said nothing, just tried not to sneer at the headmaster.

"How is our patient doing?"

"Well. She's progressing nicely."

"And you two are… getting along?"

"Yes…" said Snape, narrowly. Dumbledore was looking for a confession, for Snape to say, 'Oh, headmaster, you were right. She is so wonderful. I shouldn't have complained at the beginning of the year for her to come here. I'm so glad you accepted her after all.'

Like hell he was going to say any of that.

"She's okay then? Better than what you had thought?"

"She's… her mother's daughter."

Dumbledore could tell that this was the best thing that Snape was going to say. He accepted that, nodding, and said, "Very well. I hope to see you tomorrow at dinner, but if you are otherwise… engaged… then of course, I will understand." He twinkled at Snape and then strode out of the room just as gracefully as he had entered it.

Snape let out a deep growl and slammed his fist onto his desk. He was losing his 'mojo.' He was starting to care for this girl and it was making him a babbling, emotional idiot. He hadn't cared for anyone sine Lily had died and he didn't intend on starting now, or anytime soon.

Snape stood up and was about to give the wall a good punch when someone else opened the door, more abruptly than Dumbledore had. Professor McGonagall swooped in, walking down at a much quicker pace than Dumbledore. "Good evening, Severus." She greeted him in much the same way. "I hope I find you in good health tonight?"

"Yes…" Snape said icily, "What can I do for you, Minerva?"

"Actually I was going to do something for you. I thought maybe you'd like to let me take care of Potter for a few days, I know how you despise her."

"I don't… that's alright, I am the one that Dumbledore assigned her to."

"I'm sure Dumbledore would be understanding, and I know you have other things to get to…"

"I'm doing fine with her. Hopefully she will recover quickly and be out of here in a few weeks."

"Severus, it's really no problem for me--"

"No!" Snape said, a little too forcefully. "It's really… it's okay."

McGonagall was obviously taken aback, but she said nothing, only nodded, and left. Snape bent over his desk, breathing deeply. What was happening to him? He felt like he would break at any second. He didn't know what to do.

With all of his mind, he wanted to fight this growing affection for Leela. But the rest of him was begging to touch her, to feel her, to hold her. He didn't know if he could hold himself back from her. Especially now, since she was sick and cold and lonely… he didn't want to just leave her by herself, when he could provide solutions to so many of those things…

Snape got up to go check on her. She didn't need to be checked on, she was probably just fine. But she hadn't eaten, so he conjured up some soup and walked down the corridor to her room. His mind was screaming at him to stop, to man up, to go back to his own room. But his feet kept on walking.

He knocked and entered. She wasn't looking at the door when he came in, but she jumped and wiped away tears quickly before looking at him. Why had she been crying? Should he ask?

"I uh. I brought you some soup."

A look of confusion crossed her face. "Why?"

"You eat, don't you?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Well. Here you go."

He set it in her lap and she eyed it nervously. "Thanks…"

"Sure. How are you?"

She swallowed a little bit of it. "I'm… fine."

They sat there for a few awkward minutes, where his body screamed at him to run a hand down her shoulder or at least sit on her bed near her… but then he just got up and left.


	8. Broken

**Chapter 8  
Sorry it's taking me so long to update my story, everyone. I just got a new job, so now I have a grand total of THREE jobs... so I don't have much free time. I still like this story a lot though, so I will try to continue it when I can. Can anyone give me and idea of what direction yo uwant it to go? I originally wanted it to just be a "romance-y" type story with some drama in the background, but did you have a different idea? Stick with me! :) Thanks!**

Leila woke in the middle of the night again. She was tired from sleeping so much, but yet that's all that she could do. She sat up in her bed and looked to the other side of the room to see Snape sitting there.

He wasn't looking at her. He was looking down, at his hands. His face was twisted in agony, like he had committed some sort of crime. He muttered bitterly to himself and then looked towards the wall, his expression painfully contemplative.

"What are you doing?" Leila dared to ask.

He looked up at her, looking slightly shocked. This surprised Leila; Snape did not seem like the kind of person who could be shocked.

"Nothing," he answered, after a few brief moments.

She looked away from him, wishing he would give her a little bit of insight into his mind. He was such a strange person; completely closed off, somewhat evil, and cruel, but yet in many ways he was vulnerable. And he cared. He didn't show it very well, but she could tell that he did.

"Did you know my mother well?" She asked.

"You could say that."

"She was a good person?"

He nodded, his eyes wary. "The best."

Leila started crying again. Through her tears she blubbered, "Why am I crying all the time? You must think I'm such a weak child. I don't usually cry. I don't usually cry." She looked away from him, embarassed. Why did he have to be the one to see her like this?

"It's a side effect of what you're going through," he murmured. "Your body is incredibly weak. Crying is a way to physically relieve yourself." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. She didn't say anything, just buried her face in her hands. He got up and sat on the edge of her bed. "I don't think you're weak."

She sobbed and punched the bed. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be crying so much." Leila's chest was filled with an aching despair that pulsated outwards.

Snape moved closer to her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hands away from her face. Her wrists were so thin that his hands overlapped around them. "Leila," he murmured. He brought her chin up and his eyes searched hers. She guessed he was trying to think of something-anything-to say, but neither of them were talking. Leila was crying, so Snape, without thinking, moved towards her face and kissed a tear right below her eye.

Leila crumbed under his affection. Never before had anyone touched her-she'd never had parents to hold her, or a boyfriend to kiss her, or many friends to hug her. And yet this man, who seemed to be in physical pain every time he was around her, was there for her. He held her. He hugged her. So Leila fell apart. The hunger was too much for her to bear. She couldn't help but clutch his shoulders weakly, begging him to come closer. Pain, lust, and fear swam in Snape's eyes as he obliged, taking her in his arms.

She was shaking as he held her. He grasped her as tightly as he could without hurting her. "I'm so sorry," she said again.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he growled at her softly.

She lifted her head up and met his eyes. "Yes I do," she murmured shakily. "People have died because of me. I cause so many people-innocent people-pain. Every time you enter a room that I am you grimace with pain! I hurt people. All the time, it's all my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Damn you, Leila." She looked up in shock, and met Snape's eyes. His eyes were watering too, but they were no longer filled with fear. The pure desire that filled Snape's eyes shocked her, and jolted her to her core. He took her face in his hands and the look in his eyes was like starvation. He looked like he'd been starving for many years, and that stirred up emotions in Leila's stomach that she couldn't control.

When he kissed her, something inside of her snapped. she couldn't contain herself, and neither could he. Snape attacked her lips, pulling her head as close to his as humanly possible. His jaw opened forcefully and took in her whole mouth, sucking on her lips and pulling on her tongue. He pushed her backwards against the headboard of the bed, clawing at her hair and wiping away her tears. She allowed him to touch her face and begged him to explore her body. Anywhere. She wanted him anywhere and everywhere. she couldn't feel anywhere but where he was touching her. His desire and his rage were unstoppable, he controlled her completely. As she responded to his hungry kissing, he growled on top of her, moaning in a way that made the hairs on Leila's neck stand up.

His lips left hers as he trailed across her jawline and sucked on her ear. she arched her back, leaning into him, wanting to be closer. He couldn't stay away from her lips for long. He kissed her again, more gently. Then harsher again, pressing hard against her lips. His hands grasped her firmly, and she was folded under him, her arms pressed against his chest, grasping his shirt, just wanting mroe and more of him.

Suddenly, he stood. With a fluid movement, he moved across the room. "No, Leila. I am the one who should be sorry."


	9. Free at Last

Leila woke from a dream-filled sleep. She couldn't really remember the dreams; they were full of unfriendly shapes and hissing shadows, but nothing and no one she could identify. When she woke, she was groggy and her skin was crawling with goosebumps.

"Professor...?"

"Hush, Leila. I'm here."

Thunder cracked outside. The voice was friendly. But it was not Professor Snape's. To Leila's surprise, she felt disappointment churning in her stomach. "Who...?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

Leila sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. "Why are you here?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "It's nice to see you, too."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just curious as to why it's you and not Professor Snape."

"Well Miss Potter, I have been checking on you quite regularly. However I have not been fortunate enough to visit at a time when you were awake. Today, though, I am here to take you to dinner. Professor Snape and I have decided that you are now healthy enough to be free from this chamber, as long as you agree to continue taking your potions once a day."

"You're saying-I can leave? And not come back? Seriously!"

"Well, you must come back for potions class, and once a night for your healing potions, but other than that, yes."

"Oh my gosh. Thank you, Professor!"

"Don't thank me, Miss Potter. It is thanks to Professor Snape for being such a brilliant Potions Master, that you healed so quickly."

"Right. Well, can I leave now?"

"Indeed we can. But I daresay you will want to go up to your tower and change your clothes? You have been wearing your pajamas for some time now."

Leila looked down and blushed. "Of course, Professor. Er- good thinking. Should I...?"

"I will escort you. I want to make sure that you are fit to walk on your own, climb stairs, that sort of thing. You have been laying in this bed for quite some time."

"Okay." Leila stood from the bed, perhaps a little too fast, as the blood rushed to her head and she stumbled a little bit.

"Careful, Miss Potter," Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "We don't to get too ahead of ourselves."

"Sorry, Sir."

"No need for apologies. Just go a little slower. Give your body some time to recoup."

They exited my small room, and then left the potions classroom, as well. Leila couldn't help but notice that Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen.

...

Leila snuck up behind Hermione and tapped her on the shoulder. Slowly, she turned around, a mildly confused look on her face. "Oh! Leila!" She jumped from her seat and threw her arms around Leila. "Dumbledore didn't tell us you'd be back today! I'm so glad to see you!"

Ron stood too, grinning from ear to ear. "It's been rather boring without ya, Lei."

"Well gosh, you two could have visited me!"

They exchanged a nervous look. "Well, you see," Hermione started, "Ron here is a little afraid of Professor Snape. I mean, I can't really blame him. And I came to see you once, actually, but Professor Snape said you weren't fit for any visitors. And... I didn't really want to try again after that.." She gave Leila a half-smile. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's okay. Who cares, I'm out now!"

All three of them sat down and began eating. Leila couldn't believe how hungry she was. After weeks of drinking only that disgusting potion, she was ravenous. She probably had three portions of everything. And after that, she was still, of course, abnormally skinny.

Once everyone had had their fill, people started talking. Some people were talking about the normal stuff-homework, cranky teachers, who's dating who, but Leila noticed once reoccuring topic: the upcoming dance.

"I forgot all about the dance," Leila said.

"Oh, yeah. People won't shut up about it now. It's tomorrow, you know."

"Tomorrow?" Leila echoed despairingly. "I didn't even have time to buy a dress!"

"Don't worry, I got you covered," Hermione said, grinning. "I stole some of your money-you hide it in the most obvious of places-and I went to the liberty of buying you the most gorgeous dress. It will go amazingly with your eyes."

"Hermione, you're the best!"

"Oh, don't be silly, you would have done the same for me."

Leila smiled at her. "So who are you going with?"

"Ron, of course. The moron couldn't even ask me to my face, though."

"Hey!" Ron interjected. "I could've! I just thought the bird was cooler! That was a really difficult spell, 'Mione," he pouted.

Hermione giggled. "He transfigured a mouse he found under Seamus' bed into a dove, and gave the dove a note to give to me." She rolled her eyes. "It was pretty good, I suppose."

Ron didn't look at her, but he couldn't hide the pride in his eyes.

Leila was about to say something, but at the precise moment, a 7th year Ravenclaw waltzed up to the Gryffindor table and rested a hand on Leila's shoulder. "Miss Potter," he said swarthily, "Would you care to go to the dance with me?"

His name was Oliver. From what Leila had heard, he was a decent guy. He was a smooth talker and a good dancer, and although he wasn't Leila's type at all (she didn't even know if she HAD a type), she said yes. Because she knew she'd have a good time with him, and that's all she was looking for. Definitely nothing serious.


	10. A Night to Remember

Leila inspected herself in the mirror before the dance. She wasn't the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. She was dangerously thin, with a dress that was just a little bit too big. There were bags under her eyes. Her fingers were skeleton-like.

But she was beautiful. Hermione had indeed picked out a dress that went terrifically with her eyes; they were greener than ever. The dress was an emerald color, just a little bit poofy so it didn't accentuate her thinness. Her hair was shiny and curly, and her bangs covered her lightning-bolt scar. Tonight, she was almost a normal witch.

Hermione pulled her away from the mirror. "C'mon, Lei, it's time to go! Oliver and Ron are waiting."

They climbed down the stairs and out of the common room. Outside, in the hallway, Oliver and Ron were standing awkwardly. Ron was fidgeting with his suit, and Oliver, looking smoother than ever, seemed embarassed to be with him.

"Oh, hey, guys," Ron said, smiling slightly. Hermione beamed at him, and Leila walked over to Oliver, who kissed her on her hand.

"You look ravishing," he said, a hint of mischeif in his silvery eyes.

"Thanks," Leila said. "You don't look half bad yourself."

The Great Hall looked completely different. Candles bordered the room, and balloons floated in the night sky above. A band played at the front, and snacks were being served in the back. Ron wasted no time sitting down, and Hermione, slightly flustered about this, followed him.

"Well, we are at a dance," Oliver said. "Shall we?"

Oliver was an exquisite dancer. Leila had just started walking again yesterday, so she was NOT. At all. She stumbled over Oliver's feet, stepping on them and almost losing her balance multiple times.

"I'm so sorry," she said awkwardly.

Thankfully, he didn't look mad. In fact, he laughed. "Don't worry about it. The last dance I went to, the girl puked all over me. So don't do that, and it'll all be fine."

Leila smiled gratefully at him.

At this moment, Leila looked up and caught glimpse of Professor Snape. She hadn't seen him for three days now. He looked... amazing. He was wearing a pin-stripe, three-piece suit. His hair was askew, as always, and he had a pinched look on his face. He iddn't seem like the type for dances. but all the same, he looked good, no doubt about it.

He looked over at her, too. Leila could tell her was trying to keep a stone face, but his eyes glinted with jealousy. Leila looked away, and her stomach churned.

"I have to go to the restroom," she told Oliver. "I'll be back in sec, kay?"

"Alright." He let her go and joined Ron and Hermione at the table. Leila swung around and walked briskly from the room. She could feel Snape's eyes on her back as she went.

She rounded the corner and found an empty corridor. She pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath in. Her mind was racing. She pictured Snape, standing in the crowded room, searching for her. She hadn't been searching for him. But now that she'd found him, she couldn't stop thinking about how good he looked. About how good it felt to touch him. She realized she was shiving. It was a cold hallway, and her dress was strapless.

Oh, those eyes. How he could burn a hole in her just by looking at her. She hated herself for being so incredibly attracted to him, but she was. She couldn't help it.

"So who is he?" The voice made her jump. It was a voice that she recognized, of course. A voice that made her skin crawl and her toes curl in agonizing lust.

"You know who he is," she dared to whisper. "Don't pretend you don't know who he is."

"Yes, I know who he is," he snarled. "What I don't know is why you're with him."

Leila turned to face her professor. "Why do you care?"

"It's my job. Teachers are supposed to care."

Leila laughed. "Bullshit."

Snape's eyes widened in fury. "Why did you come with him?"

"Why shouldn't I? He's a nice guy!"

"A nice guy. A nice guy!" He glared into her, and then slammed a fist against the wall right next to her head. Leila shuddered away, fearful of his temper. He looked like he was fighting within himself. "A nice guy. Damn it, Leila."

"What? what is your problem?"

"YOU are my problem!"

They were shouting at each other now, both angry.

"I hate you," he snarled, inches from her face.

"Good," Leila hissed. "I hate you too."

he was crouched over her, his shoulders slumped so that his eyes were levelled with hers. His eyes bore into hers for mere milliseconds, and then he pushed himself roughly into her, kissing her. Leila's hands automatically flew to his hair, pulling him closer to her. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to him. He bit her bottom lip, sucking on it, drawing her tongue into his mouth. He breathed heavily into her, moaning as if in extreme agony.

They parted for air and Snape pulled her into a nearby classroom. Leila didn't recognize it. Snape locked the door and once again attacked her mouth. While they kissed, his hands reached behind her to unzip her dress. she scrambled to remove his shirt. "I'm going to teach you not to take some stupid _boy _to some stupid _dance_," Snape growled into her, and ripped the rest of her dress off. She let out a weak "oh" as the cool air hit her chest. He pressed his lips against hers, and his hand cupped her right breast. He closed his eyes and for the briefest moment, he leaned his head against hers, breathing, drowning in his desire as he touched her.

He moved her from the wall and onto a large, wooden desk. Not at all gently, he laid her on it and climbed on top of her. The front of his shirt was unbuttoned, and he tore it off completely. Then he lowered himself and took her nipple in between his lips, roughly sucking and biting it. Leila couldn't help herself, she let out a cry of surprise at his aggresiveness.

He trailed down her belly and pulled off her underwear. Leila was in overdrive; she couldn't believe how fast she was moving from one pleasure spot to the next. She gasp as he pushed his tongue into her, feeling all over, sucking in places she didn't know were there. "Oh," she moaned. "Oh, my God. Professor. Oh!" he plunged far into her, feeling her in ways that no one else had. She couldn't believe how good it felt.

Snape muttered something under his breath and then mumbled a hasty spell, and his pants vanished. Nothing was left. There was nothing in between them. Leila clawed at his shoulders, begging him to come closer, to give her what they both so desperately wanted. He positioned himself above her and then entered her. There was no testing the waters. He plunged in, and then he came out. Over and over he entered her, angrily and lustfully riding her. he was in a different world, and so was she; a world where ti was just the two of them, they could do what they want, they could have each other forever.

"You. Do not. Let. Boys. _Touch. _You." he growled as he pushed farther into her. "Ever again."

"Yes, Professor," she said weakly.

He laid completely on top of her, still inside her, and kissed her roughly. His tongue entered her mouth, and he tasted so good. He pumped in and out of her again, and then released inside of her. He kissed her neck, more softly now.

Leila was panting. She wanted to cry, everything felt so good, so surreal. He stood her up, and they kissed again. and then yet again. But they he stopped. He handed her her dress and re-dressed himself. "Something's wrong. We have to go. Hurry, get your dress back on."

They opened the door to the classroom and Snape took off. "Don't follow me," he said.

Leila went the other direction, nearly running into a little first-year. Shannon, her name was. "Sorry," Leila said, and then she kept going. She could hear the Great Hall before she got there; she could hear the people shouting, bustling around, and then as she rounded the corner, she heard Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Everyone please return to your dormatories. The teachers will handle this, you are safe, do not worry, just please go straight back to your dormatories! Quickly!"

Hermione found Leila and gave her a rolled up piece of parchment. "Here, Oliver told me to give you this before you disappeared."

"What's going on?" Leila asked as she opened it.

"There was a big explosion in one of the green houses. Leila... the Dark Mark is over it."

Leila looked up, her eyes wide. "Was anyone out there?"

"I don't know, Lei. But we have to go. come on."

Leila followed Hermione, reading as she went.

_Meet me in greenhouse one. _

_-Oliver_

Leila grabbed Hermione's arm. "Oh my God, Hermione! Look at this! Oliver is probably out there somewhere!"

Hermione read the note and then said promptly, "We need to go talk to Dumbledore. Now."

"No-Hermione! We need to go find Oliver!"

"Leila, don't you see? It was trap! This was another attempt to kill you!"


	11. Fateful Decision

**A/N: **hey everybody! So it's been like two years since I've updated this story, and I'm sure all the people who liked it are now gone, but just in case a few of you are hanging on… here's another update. Sorry, please please please forgive me.

***  
The next few weeks are torture. Leila is kept under constant guard, as is everyone else in her dormitory. Nothing happens. Day by day, the tension builds like a taut rubber band, but nothing happens.

"It's like he's playing with us," Hermione says one day over lunch. Everything is hushed. People are scared, scared to talk about it, scared to breathe a word of the threat to anyone in fear of being targeted.

"How do we even know it was him?" Ron asks, a little too loudly. "Seriously, if it was him, don't you think he would have shown his ugly face by now?"

It's a valid point. Hermione and Leila think about this. Besides a few whispers, all you can hear is the clanging of forks on the plates. Against her better judgement, Leila chances a glance at Snape. His eyes are focused on his plate, although he is not eating. He rarely eats anymore. He rarely looks at Leila, either.

Why would he be ignoring her? The typical teenage answer would be, he only wanted sex. But he wasn't a teenager, and she knew that he didn't just want sex. The connection they'd had was more than physical. She could still feel him across the room. He body was hyperaware of his every action. She yearned to be close to him and she knew he felt the same way. So what was going on?

_It's because I'm never alone now, _Leila thought bitterly. Of course he couldn't risk coming close to her when the whole school was watching and waiting.

The situation made her feel hopeless. People were constantly around her, guarding her, watching her. The only time she had alone was in the bathroom. She couldn't stand it. Her eyes tried to read Snape's face, but he was too far away. _I just want to talk to you. Know how you are._

_ I have to do something, _she thought. _If Voldemort wants me, he's going to get to me eventually. _Why prolong the inevitable?

She could easily sneak out of the dormitories, and she knew very easily how to sneak off to Hogsmeade where she would have no protection at all. Then she could get this over with. She'd been practicing everything she knew, and even without practicing she _knew _she was a powerful witch. It tortured her that people were standing guard over her, human shields between her and Voldemort. She didn't want to stand for that any longer.

"Leila, are you okay?" Hermione whispered. Leila snapped out of her trance and realized that she must have been glaring at her plate for a few minutes.

"Yeah, sorry. Tired."

***

Later that evening, Leila, Ron, and Hermione were studying in the library. Ron and Hermione were the only people Leila was permitted to be with that weren't teachers, so of course Leila was with them as much as possible. Hermione had left to find a book (one of the few that she didn't know exactly where it was) and Ron and Leila were tapping their pencils waiting for her to get back. "This is taking a bloody long time," Ron muttered. Leila agreed. "I'll be right back," he said anxiously. He left to go find her. In reality, it had only been a few minutes since she'd departed from the table. Leila suspected that this was a plan that Ron and Hermione had come up with to have a few minutes alone.

She got up to stretch her legs for a few minutes and only had to pass a few aisles before she saw Ron and Hermione making out with each other. "Sheesh," she murmured under her breath, and kept walking. Neither had seen her.

Upon seeing their intimacy, her mind wandered to Snape. It was getting late. He would surely be in his classroom now, working on some stupid potion… her stomach clenched at the thought of him. She had to see him.

Against her better judgment, she decided to leave the library without telling Ron or Hermione. They would be furious, as would Professor McGonagall, but at this moment… she didn't care.

Thankfully the potions classroom was not far, and it was late enough that most of the castle was in their dormitories. She got to the potions classroom without an issue, and when the door creaked open, she found Snape hunched over his cauldron, just as she suspected he would be.

She stood in the shadows, waiting for him to notice her. It didn't take long. She suspected that he got the same prickly feelings on his skin whenever she was around.

"Leila!" His voice sounded surprised—such a rarity. "What are you doing here?"

"Got lost." The sarcasm was intentional.

"You aren't supposed to be without someone to protect you."

Leila shrugged and attempted to look away, but the nonchalant attitude did not last for long. She couldn't resist staring into his eyes.

He moved across the classroom with a swiftness that surprised her. Suddenly he was inches from her, snarling in her face. "You need to get back. You need someone to protect you."

Her eyes gleamed with defiance. "No, I _don't. _I am not a child!"

"You ARE a child! You are vulnerable. Do you have any idea of what he is capable of? What he could do to you?"

"Of course I do!" Leila hissed.

Snape withdrew. He knew that he had asked a stupid question. They glared into each other's eyes for long seconds. He backed her into the wall and placed a hand right next to her head. She placed a trembling hand on his chest. She knew she was tempting him.

_"Damn it, Leila,_" he snarled, and pressed his lips against hers again. Although she had felt it before, it was all new again. He was so urgent, so passionate, and so dangerous. She could feel the power in his hands as he ran them through her hair. His lips were so demanding and eager. She melted at his touch, completely went limp in his arms. He supported her, pulled her up to him.

They fell to the floor together. She didn't mind that it was cold and hard. He was warm. He was soft, despite how hard and cold he could be. He was on top of her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She laced her fingers through his hair and moaned into his kiss. This was all she ever wanted, forever.

Their passion was interrupted by a loud _crack _of thunder, and Snape quickly stood. "You have to go. He is watching me, always, Leila. You have to get out of here!"

Leila felt the prickly sensation of being watched, but she didn't want to leave. "Professor—"

"Leila, _go!_" Snape snarled, and she saw the angry panic in his eyes. With a sinking heart, she left.

Leila listened to the clock tick as one by one her classmates fell asleep. Hermione was the last. She could always tell when Hermione fell asleep because she muttered equations and riddles in her dreams.

Under her sheets, Leila drew her wand on Professor McGonagall, who was reading in the corner. She cast a sleeping spell on her and then slipped out of her sheets. "Sorry," she whispered as she passed her.

The secret exit from Hogwarts was easy to find. She'd never used it, only heard of it. Everything was going smoothly. She knew this was supposed to happen. It was unfair for her to expect a whole castle to protect her. This was one thing that Leila was meant to do alone.

The tunnel was icy cold and dark. Even with her wand lit, Leila couldn't see very far. The further she went, the cooler it got. She could feel Voldemort. She knew she was getting closer.

As she neared the end of the tunnel she heard a whisper inside her head. _It's about time you came to find me, Potter. _The voice was prickly and unpleasant. Leila paused for a moment but pushed on, determined not to let her fear spill over. She'd faced the Dark Lord before… she could do it again.

_How naive of you to think that you could face me alone… Of course, you always were naïve. Just like your mother. She fell for your father so easily… always had such and idealistic view of the world. It served her well, in the end… when she begged me to kill her…_

Leila unsuccessfully tried to block his voice out. He was inside her, in that way that he'd always been. She could feel him, as close as if he was standing right next to her.

The thought of him being beside her made Leila jumpy, but she could feel that she wasn't close enough yet. He was still some distance away.

She climbed up the ladder into an empty hotel room. It was full of cobwebs and old knick-knacks… who knows who they used to belong to. Now she could feel him. It was as if his presence was screaming in her ears, and she clutched her wand more tightly than before.

_Stupid girl… _he hissed, and then vanished. The pounding in her ears faded and the pressure on her chest was lifted. What happened? She turned all around, but it seemed that he was gone.

She knew that this was a trick. That he would not leave when she had arrived. She stood very still, listening to her breath and the beat of her heart.

Suddenly, the bare light bulb above her burst. The moon suddenly seemed very far away, as it provided so little light to the room. Then she felt something cold and thin, like a finger, trailing up her arm and continuing up her neck.

"So stupid of you to meet me here, yet I knew you would come…" His voice was close now. Right behind her, perhaps it was actually his finger that was touching her.

The finger withdrew from her skin, and she spun around to face the face of a small child. A girl—maybe six or seven. Her stomach churned in disgust. It was all so real—the curly blonde hair, the chunky fingers, the rosy lips… all down to the eyes. Where the baby blues would usually be were cold, pupil-less eyes that looked more suited to a snake than a human. His mouth curled into a sickening smile and slowly he/she drew its wand.

Leila shouted "expelliarmus!" as soon as Voldemort snarled "Avada Kedavra!" Their curses met in the middle, connected by that strange strand that no one could explain. In frustration, Voldemort flicked his wand and the connection broke. Then he shouted _crucio _before Leila could make a sound.

For the second time in her life, Leila felt the sensation of being killed without the relief of dying. She felt herself compact onto the floor—helpless, immobile, without a chance of fighting back.

Yet she could. She found herself able to push against the spell. Somehow she willed her wand to fight back, and it did. Her wand defended her. A silvery strand snuck out of the end of it and snapped at Voldemort like a whip. It snapped against the young girl's skin like a whip, and he retaliated with a hissing sound.

Taking her opportunity, Leila whispered a Slimming spell, similar to the potion that he had slipped to her. Voldemort quickly deflected it, and snarled another enchantment that tightened Leila's skin and made her shriek in fear.

What was this? Her skin was shrinking, stretching against her bones—she felt as if it would tear everywhere. Trying to maintain her wits, she deflected yet another strike from Voldemort.

Quickly, Leila realized she was fighting a losing battle. It was foolish of her to come here. She murmured a healing spell and the strange enchantment was lifted from her skin, but Voldemort was doing too well, and she was already weakening. Voldemort made slash-like gestures with his wand, and huge gashes appeared on Leila's skin. _How can I win this? _She asked herself.

Voldemort yelled _crucio! _Once more and Leila sank to the ground. The pain was agonizing. Her eyes began to roll into her head, and she shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed from her face, not from the pain—but because she knew she was losing.

Just as Leila was about to give herself over to the Cruciatas curse, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A hand. Coming out of the tunnel, pulling someone up into the room with her. Gray eyes swooped the room and then met hers, and locked on her. She saw horror in those eyes, and desperation.

_Professor Snape! _Upon seeing her, he flew from the tunnel, wand pointed straight at Voldemort. _"Avada Kedavra!" _He screamed, and a green blast pushed him backwards and hit the girl Voldemort straight in the chest.

The girl crumpled to the floor with a loud hissing noise. Her face melted to reveal an alien-like creature, whose beady eyes glared at Leila as if to say, _I'll be back. Soon. _Leila felt her insides shrivel, but she felt relief as the alien melted into the floor and disappeared.

She did not get up. She could see the blood gushing from her wounds, but thankfully, she couldn't feel them. All she could think was, _how could I have been so stupid? _A small part of her knew that she had done the right thing. She had saved the castle from what surely would have been an invasion. Although she could not, had not, defeated Voldemort tonight… she had still saved the castle.

Snape crouched next to her and placed an arm on her arm. "Leila," he whispered in his deep, husky voice. Even in her embarrassment and pain, it made her stomach curl with pleasure.

"You came for me," she whispered. "You knew I would be here."

"Of course I did, you stupid girl." He sat her up and leaned her again the wall.

"I thought you hated me," she whispered.

"I could never hate you."

The pain grew all over her as the adrenaline faded, but she didn't complain. She clung to Snape, and eventually, he picked her up and carried her into the castle as she faded into sleep.


End file.
